Hair
by The Cheshire Cheese
Summary: Why can't the Doctor just reprogram himself with hair? What made Janeway switch from her Victorian twists to a short modern bob? Why did Chakotay suddenly go from gray to jet-black? And how'd B'Elanna's forehead change so drastically? A late-night conversation in the mess hall answers these questions. (Oneshot, drabble.)


**A/N: This takes place immediately after "Waking Moments" (Season 4), when the crew is suffering from insomnia. **

**I don't own "Voyager."**

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Tom, Harry and B'Elanna walked into the mess hall in their pajamas, not surprised to see a handful of others already there. Ever since the last alien attack had left Voyager with an epidemic of insomnia, Neelix's mess hall had turned into something of a late-night coffee shop. The Talaxian kept the room dimly lit at night, after enough people told him they found it more relaxing.

The trio found the captain and Chakotay sitting across from each other at a small table, conversing over cups of decaff.

"…that's some nightmare, Kathryn." Chakotay said, raising his mug. "Everyone on the ship dead except yourself and Neelix…I think I'd beam myself into the nearest supernova."

Neelix perked up from the galley as the captain and Chakotay laughed into their mugs. "Did someone say my name?"

"Ch-Ch-Chakotay it's not funny!" Janeway took a deep breath and looked him in the eye, still laughing. "You all died of old age! Because I couldn't get you home in time!"

"You've got time, Captain," Harry said as he, B'Elanna and Tom took a seat at the table next to theirs. "It's not like we're living in the Dark Ages, growing old and frail by the time we're thirty."

"That's a myth." Chakotay said. "People didn't age that fast back then. The average lifespan was thirty years because so many people died young, from disease, famine, plague, war…"

Neelix stopped by the table to offer snacks and drinks to Tom, B'Elanna and Harry.

Tom frowned at Chakotay, letting Neelix fill his plate with what looked like blue french-fries. "Some of us seem to be getting _younger_ on this journey. Stop me if I'm wrong Chakotay, but wasn't your hair gray when we first met?"

"Tom!" B'Elanna gave her boyfriend a smack on the arm.

Chakotay however was chuckling over his mug. "It's alright. I started graying a little prematurely after I joined the Maquis."

"Sure, blame the stress." Tom nodded jokingly.

Neelix joined in, as he refilled Janeway and Chakotay's coffee. "There's no shame in wanting to reclaim a bit of stolen youth."

After the laughter died down a bit, Chakotay shrugged. "I guess I just wanted a fresh start. I got settled, got used to things on Voyager, and…." he shrugged again. "I dunno. I didn't mind being gray when I thought I could die fighting Cardassians any minute, but here, part of a community…I just sort of decided it one day. During my check up I asked the doctor for a follicle reversion. So he turned back the clock."

"But left your eyebrows silver," B'Elanna mused.

"I liked them better that way."

"It's a good look." B'Elanna smiled. "The silver against the black, it makes you look kind of…wolf-ish."

Chakotay smiled, flattered, while Tom gave B'Elanna a jokingly-suspicious look.

"Speaking of the Doc," Harry said, "There's something I've been wondering, since the first month we've been lost out here. I mean…the Doctor's bald. He _complains_ about being bald. So why doesn't he just…"

Tom finished: "Reprogram himself with a huge, blinding-white 'fro?"

Several others in the mess hall joined the laughter this time. Even if Bianca Nicoletti or Samantha and Naomi Wildman hadn't been listening to the whole conversation, Tom's last sentence made it clear enough who they were talking about now.

"We should program him with an afro tonight!" Naomi exclaimed, from where she and her mother were sharing a slice of cheese cake. "Just a surprise for him, when he's activated in the morning!"

"But we can't!" B'Elanna said, her eyes wide. "We can't. You want to know _why_ the Doctor can't give himself hair?"

Naomi and Sam listened intently. Tom, Harry, the captain and Chakotay turned to B'Elanna, and even Neelix leaned in for the gossip.

"His creator, Lewis Zimmerman, was a very proud man when he designed the EMH Mark-1. When he put his own face on his holograms, he knew he wasn't the most ideal looking male by many planets' standards, his own included. He didn't want someone else tampering with his holograms, replacing his beautiful face with a younger, less folliclely-challenged man."

"Are you serious?" Captain Janeway gaped at B'Elanna.

"Dead serious. He asked me to help him change his programming about a year ago, so he could try experimenting with different hair styles. The details are complicated, and I'm too tired to get into it right now. But Zimmerman made that face and head the hardest thing to change about that program!"

"I guess even holograms can inherit bad genes," Tom mused. "I got my receding hairline from my dad. Sometimes I've tried hiding it, and other times I just don't give a Targ's ass." Realizing he'd just swore in front of the captain, Tom's blue eyes bulged over his cup.

Janeway waved her hand. "We're not on duty Tom, it's all right. You can swear if you want to…dammit!"

"So, Tom," Harry rested his chin on his fist. "You didn't give a Targ's ass how bad your hair was when you were in prison, but as soon as you were on a ship…"

"…Surrounded by gorgeous women!" Tom touched B'Elanna under her chin. "I guess we have B'Elanna to thank for sparing the ship my god-awful hairdo."

When B'Elanna had finished blushing, she took notice again of Voyager's youngest crewmember. "Naomi, you look like you want to ask us something."

"Well," Naomi looked up at her mother, who seemed confused. "There was one thing I was kind of wondering, Lieutenant..."

"You can call me B'Elanna, Naomi. If you join my engineering team when you're grown up, _then _you can call me Lt. Torres. Or if you've damaged a power relay, _Herr_ Torres."

That was particularly funny to everyone, due to the recent incident with the Hirogen and the WWII holo-program. Naomi and Samantha had been in "France" themselves, but were thankfully hidden safely away from the battle—hidden in an attic, actually. Naomi had taken up an interest in Anne Frank and the Holocaust immediately afterwards, and B'Elanna saw that she even had the famous Diary on the pad by her plate.

"Okay," Naomi fiddled with her fork. "_Herr_ Torres." More laughter. "I had a question about your…um…"

B'Elanna blinked, inquisitively.

"Well I don't know if it's polite or not. But it's about your forehead ridges."

B'Elanna was a bit taken aback, but not offended. Probably because it was Naomi. Had any of the adults in the crew asked the same question, B'Elanna's response might have been a little less diplomatic.

"What about them?"

"It seems like they change. I mean, when I look at pictures of the crew from the first year Voyager got lost, and your profile in the Maquis, it just seems like you have more…ridges. Like an extra one or something. And your hair's pushed back more."

"Ah." B'Elanna looked down at her fries. "Well…Klingons aren't supposed to discuss it with outsiders. But I suppose wherever my mother is right now, there's not much she can do about it."

Everyone was listening now. Even crewmen at distant tables, who were trying to look like they weren't eavesdropping, obviously were. What the hell. For the benefit of everyone in the mess hall, B'Elanna answered Naomi's question.

"Klingons' forehead ridges change overtime, just like human's hair or skin sometimes does. Usually its gradual, but sometimes it's more sudden. Klingons like to use their foreheads in battle, or at least they did at one point in time, so the bone and tissue in our foreheads is constantly changing and regenerating itself, as it suffers injuries or irritation."

"Like deer re-growing antlers!" Naomi said.

"Yeah…something like that, I guess."

"My god," Harry said, "That explains Worf! From the Enterprise! I could never understand, when I looked at the different pictures of him, why his ridges changed so much."

Tom stifled a belch. "I always just thought he suffered some kind of injury to his head and had to get cosmetic surgery."

"Seven should wear her hair down more often." Samantha Wildman said out of the blue.

An awkward silence, as everyone nodded or gave expressions of agreement.

"She was beautiful," Harry said almost in a daze, "That night on the World War II program."

Chakotay was nodding slowly, his eyes wide and distant.

"Well Seven's not ready for that kind of attention yet." Janeway said diplomatically, and that seemed to break Harry and Chakotay out of their trance.

"What about you Captain." Chakotay asked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You've had some interesting choices of hairstyles over the last few years."

Janeway was relieved that Chakotay hadn't been asking her what she'd thought he was. But when she considered what he _was _asking, her mouth fell opened, and she held up a warning hand. "Chakotay, I think I'm going to pass a new decree on this ship: _no one_ will bring up the captain's dreadful past hairdos in conversation, at least not while she's in the room!"

"I thought you looked alright with the bun," Harry said.

"Yeah," Tom nodded. "It was very…queenly. Very Victorian."

"Thank you Tom."

Chakotay pursed his lips at Janeway. "Why don't you tell them Captain."

"Tell them what?"

"Yeah," Tom folded his arms. "Tell us what?"

"Why you cut your hair." Chakotay said.

Janeway's expression turned to embarrassment, and she shook her head. "Chakotay, no."

"What?" B'Elanna sat up. "…What?"

"If you don't tell them Kathryn then I will."

"You…" Janeway mouthed a curse word. "Fine. If you _have_ to know, the whole sappy story." She cocked her head, holding her coffee. "I tried the bun for my promotion ceremony to captain, and a friend told me it gave me a very queenly, commanding look. When I realized I'd have to command Voyager by myself, possibly for the rest of my life, I thought—at first—the more 'commanding' the better. I was used to maintaining a distance from my crew, back then. But as time went by, I began to felt we were more than just a crew." Those "puppy-eyes," as Ensign Jenkins often called them when Janeway wasn't around, came over the captain's face again. "And I guess I wanted a look that was a little more…laid back. Something that made me more approachable to the crew."

Harry gave a slow nod. "Like…less of a queen, and more of a…mom."

The captain's face was turning red, and she glanced back down at her coffee, smiling with embarrassment. "Chakotay why did you make me tell them that?"

"I just thought they should know."

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**A/N: It got a little hard to keep this chapter light and humorous, knowing that it's taking place right before my depressing "Hunters" story. **


End file.
